The plan was to make it a two part short story and we based it on a favela (a ghetto) in Brazil. Basically we wanted some senseless gunslinging action (or at least that's what I wanted) and the challenge to write something different and with wild abandon.

Synopsis: Every four years in Fazenda, El Diablo 'the devil' pays a visit carrying a great prize. Anyone who can best him in battle can claim the prize. And now is just another one of those times, except the once-secret myth now engulfs the entire favela in a real hell

Part I: Céu

"It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell."Buddha

Part I: Céu

Fazenda was one of the largest favelas in Brazil. It was placed on a steep hillside which made for a dizzying and awing sight at night when one stood at the right place. The city was always alive, and at night the lights shone from the brightest whites to the most mundane yellows. The night times were always these purple dark things with cloudy skies. No one saw the stars here, and no one really was interested in seeing them.

The night life was all too interesting to be bothered with things like that. This night in one of many pubs the party was going on. It had wooden floors, the smell of smoke, scantily dressed women and dangerous looking men. Almost all of whom were carrying a weapon in some form of the other.

Angelo Saudade, a 16 year old boy with a bandana and vest sat comfortably in at the stool. In this part of Fazenda if you were out this late more often than not you knew how to handle yourself. If you didn't then you'd be dead and nobody would see you around in the first place.

"Your father is going to kill you Angelo." Micky, the bartender said as he polished a dirty glass,

"He told me if I see you in here again I should call him, then call the morgue."

Angelo looked Micky in the face, "You do that then the body that'll be going out those doors will be yours." He took another swig of his beer, "Besides, you like my business, and you hate my father's rotten guts more than I do."

"He is a rotten individual isn't he?" Micky grinned. Angelo did so as well and they shared a brief laugh.

There was a cry of pain from behind them. Angelo looked around to see a couple being shoved away from a group of angry looking men who had just walked into the bar. The man in the couple had wanted to protest but seeing how he was outnumbered held up his hands apologetically and moved around the group of five, heading outside with his date.

Angelo shrugged and got back to looking at the TV. There was football on and he could watch it well enough even with the blaring music.

"People are pretty angry these days for some reason. Angelo said." Micky didn't comment, looking left and right before he leaned in to talk in a sort of whisper.

"Listen, Angelo. Seriously though you should be leaving." Micky said. This time in a more serious note, "You're the son of a gang boss and these days things are a bit dangerous."

Angelo looked up at his friend and saw that Micky was seriously concerned about something,"This hellhole always has danger. What would be so different about it now?"

"Now, the devil is coming through, and we want to rob him dead." Someone answered for Micky.

Angelo looked to his right to see that one of the men - one with a scar down his face - was pointing a revolved at his face,

"No!" Micky shouted, shoving forward and pushing away the gun that had been pointed at Angelo's head.

The gun went off. And there were three other shots. There was a tinkle of glass and then chaos broke loose as more gunfire ensued.

Angelo had reacted quickly as the stray shot went wild. He could not do anything about the three next shots though. Micky spasmed and shook and fell away even as Angelo went into action: He unholstered his micro UZI and let them have it.

About the size of a handgun the machine pistol could fire up to 500 rounds per minute. All 20 rounds of the magazine were expended. He was already diving away and reloading his magazine.

The bar top exploding as more bullets chewed it up.

All adrenaline now he slammed into the ground and shot at all their legs, the recoil only helping his case. All five of the gangsters were down now. Two definitely dead.

Angelo got to his feet and ran towards the downed people even as the partygoers ran out of the bar screaming.

Like a cop, he kicked away the guns that were in proximity to the thugs, making sure they were all neutralized. Just like his dad had taught him.

Angelo kept his UZI aimed at them and walked backwards to take a look over the counter.

"Micky?"

"Micky groaned something incomprehensible. Angelo couldn't check how bad the injuries were but at least he was alive. Angelo went back to checking on his attackers. By now everyone had cleared out of the room.

"You. Talk."

The thug looked up at him in pain, clutching his knee before attempting to spit. Before he even could Angelo shot him and moved on to the next one, who held up his hands in surrender.

"What did he mean about my father?" Angelo asked. Always making sure to keep the other two thugs in his periphery vision.

"He refused to help us. With El Diablo."

Angelo pushed his gun to the man's gut, "The Devil?"

The man was frantic now, "Yes yes yes. He comes tonight, right through this street. All the other gangs are on board with taking him down together but your dad says that's not in the rules. "

The doors suddenly slammed open though and Angelo quickly aimed his UZI in that direction, seeing three more men similarly dressed as the ones he shot down and seeing them about to fire his reflexes saved him, firing even as he dived over the counter. More drinks and glasses were knocked away and the counter was riddled with bullets as he landed awkwardly next to Micky behind the bar.

Angelo swore, "What the hell is happening?" He reloaded his UZI one last time, looking at Micky.

Micky looked back at him, blood dribbling down his chin,"Go."

Angelo crawled over to him even over the hail of gunfire. He only had seconds to either fire back and take them down or decide to get out of here before he got outflanked.

Micky shook his head, "I'm a deadman. Get out of -" He coughed some more blood, "Get out of here. I did not know... Your father wouldn't tell me properly the bastard... “He breathed heavily,

"Get my daughter out of here, Angelo. Tonight there will be blood."

"Micky-” Angelo said. And Micky died.

He didn't have time to even mourn his friend before someone jumped up on the counter, pointing a shotgun down at him. Angelo fired upwards and the man jumped away with a yelp. Angelo fell back, more bullets thumping into the counter. Thank goodness Micky had armor plated it some time back otherwise he'd be so much Swiss cheese. He crawled towards the exit, reached his hand out for the handle and shoved it open, crawling through the opening as the men cried out in agitation,

"He's making a break for it! Kill that bastard!"

Angelo got to his feet and ran through the kitchen. It was already cleared. He bashed open the back entrance and continued running. His breath came out as mist in the cold night air as his sneakers thumped on the dirt of the street. He ran for a long time through endlessly winding streets that alternatively went up and down, and the sound of pursuit died down behind him.

Seeing someone peaking out of their house, Angelo rushed in. The old lady screamed in protest as he walked in, shutting the door behind him before holding out his gun.

"Shut up! Quiet!" He demanded. The old woman protested in a barrage of sentences vilifying

Angelo. He drowned it out and went to the windows of the small dingy sitting room, closing the strips of cloth that were used as curtains and avoiding knocking down the furniture. He peeked out of one of the windows as men ran down the street. Finally annoyed by the constant shouting behind him he talked back,

"Shut up or I'll seriously put a bullet in you!" The old woman finally kept quiet. For a tense moment the two watched each other as the sounds of pursuit continued outside. The men who had been following him seemed to finally give up because he caught snatches of conversation with words like 'Leave him' and 'Return'. But they were carried away in the night.

Finally regaining his breath, Angelo had time to try to talk to the old woman but there was a loud click beside him. The sound of a handgun being cocked.

Angelo looked to his right to see a scared looking boy of maybe 12 years old holding up a revolver too big for him.

"Leave Nana alone..." He said, trembling. Angelo took one look and knew he hadn't fired a gun in his life. Still, he couldn't underestimate him.

Angelo slowly lowered his gun as he held out a hand, walking to his left to get closer to the old woman and stay out of target. To his credit, despite his inexperience the boy tracked his movements well, his trigger finger now caressing the trigger.

"Calm down. I'm only here to hide. I'll be out of here soon. Put that down before you hurt your old lady okay kid?"

The old lady spoke in a firm but soothing voice, "Put it down, Simao. Listen to him. There's a good boy."

The boy named Simao looked helpless and relieved as he lowered the gun. He flicked the hammer and exhaled, looking between his grandmother and Angelo.

Angelo nodded at the old woman and headed to the door, ""I'll be going now. I'm sorry for all of this." He was about to open the door when the old woman spoke.

"This is the devil's work again isn't it?" The old lady said. She was trembling.

The old woman looked around at him, "You... You're the son of Gregorio Saudade, correct?"

"Yes. I'm Angelo Saudade." He said. He holstered his weapon and looked at her, "They say they killed him for refusing to help them stop the devil or something. What is happening tonight? What is all of this about? Surely they can't be really fighting the king of hell in the literal sense?"

"Literal or not, the name is fitting for the one who is coming through here." The old lady spoke. "I am sorry to hear about your father. He was one of the only sane ones here who didn't sell the soul of the Fazenda"

Angelo walked over to her and held her hands, "Please. My friend just died today and I have been told to take her away from here. Tell me everything."

"It's a short story, but it may just have you throwing away your life like the rest of those fools tonight."

"Still, tell me." Angelo demanded, "I need to know."

"Then take a seat, child." The old woman said. She walked over to one of her chairs and sat down slowly. Angelo walked past Simao and took a seat opposite her. Simao walked closer to his grandmother and stood beside her like a sentinel, still holding his gun.

Good soldier, Angelo thought, before listening to the story.

The old woman began her story, "Every four years, the devil visits this favela, holding a gift he stole from heaven, as they call it. He challenges anyone to take it from him, and when they do they inevitably die. Even if he is bested, the lust for the gifts that he stole boil over into a fullout war in the Favela."

"Every four years?" Angelo remembered his 12 birthday, where he definitely decided he loathed his father. It was when his mother and sister had been killed in a gunfight and he'd been sequestered away somewhere with his father's minions for no known reason. His father hadn't even attended the funeral and from then on forced Angelo to learn even more how to defend himself.

And he vaguely remembered four years before that, when he was 8. There'd been a big fight between his parents then right? It was when he started living at his mothers and fathers place alternatively.

"Yes. If you pay attention you'll know something big always happens then. “The old woman confirmed.”It's something that has been going on for the past 20 years. Simao lost his father to that, and countless others have died on these bloody nights. And this one will be the worst, because not only is the secret out but all the gangs wanted to participate. I thought Gregorio would keep his promise, but he trusted his friends too much it seems, and now I have doomed my grandson."

"I am still confused. Someone comes through every four years and challenges people? Does he have a gang around him? It's impossible that-"

"One person repels all attacks against him? But it's true. He always wears a suit as black as night, and he carries a silver briefcase in the other hand. In that case is something worth more than diamonds, more powerful than nuclear weaponry, more terrible than any natural disaster..."

"And why would the whole favela be in danger? Why not just stay in your houses?"

"Because this time the fools have broken the agreement. No one is supposed to know this much.

I only knew this much because I talked with the devil after he had just shot my husband." The old lady smiled, "I used to run the gangs, and my son, Simao's father, was going to take over, so we knew what was happening and agreed to it too. I guess you reap what you sow. Now after the devil sees that everyone knows about this he'll consider everyone here a challenger and rain down hell upon them. Come next morning this place will be a wasteland."

"That's not possible. One man couldn't possibly do that much damage." Angelo scoffed as he stood up.

"And this is why he is called the devil, Angelo Saudade. Now, you'll go to this daughter of your friend because I know the men in your family to be loyal, and you'll soon see people are dying left and right, and then you'll understand you have to either leave and keep your promise or die here. I would rather you take my grandson with you when you make the right choice. I'll stay here, because he'll definitely come for me. The devil never forgets."

"I'm not babysitting two brats." Angelo said as he headed for the door and opened it to the cold night air. There was gunfire in the distance. Music was fainter than it had ever been before, and Angelo felt a chill in his bones that was like a conviction that everything the old woman had said was true. "He'll have to take care of himself." He finally said.

"Thank you." Was the reply he got as he walked out and into the street.

They found their way to the north of Fazenda, away from most of the more dangerous parts of the favela, but there was nowhere safe at night here in Fazenda, and tonight seemed one of them.

The first signs of trouble had already been the lack of music and the increasing sound of gunfire. But now it intensified. There was an explosion, and Angelo knew from the sound of sirens and continuous gunfire a full blown battle had started.

"I've never heard it so noisy before." Simao said with a shiver.

"Something’s wrong." Angelo said. He wasn't running that much anymore, going from building to building while keeping a look out for people. Everyone he saw was either running away in fear or heading towards the noise of battle with more machine guns. Angelo recognized various dress codes and tattoos to know that they were members from the most notorious gangs that ruled the Favela. There were four in all, one which his father had until recently controlled. But now they all seemed to be focused on the same task of ambushing the devil, as the old woman had said.

Angelo hated that there was too little time to think things over, but he would figure that all out once he saved Micky's daughter and got the hell out of here. It would be simple enough once he found her. He'd continue North and hit the forest. The climb would be hellish but once they hit the tree line they would be lost forever until they reached the top.

From there it would be a simple trek down to a nearby coastline and if things were truly desperate they could get a boat to another part of the land or try to settle down somehow. He'd lived on the streets before with almost nothing to eat, but he always figured out a way to survive in the end.

They reached Micky's house, a dump of a place with corrugated roofing and mud walls, but inside was actually nicer than most houses. His daughter clearly had a part in this.

Simao was doing his part, looking around and keeping his gun in hand. He was only clumsy with it because he was nervous, but he hadn't shot himself in the foot yet at least.Angelo knocked on the window,

"Domitila. Domitila. It's me, Angelo. Open up, it's urgent."

He looked around. The night was too quiet this side of town. People had turned off their lights left and run. There was another distant crack of a pistol and more automatic fire.

Angelo knocked again, "Domi-"

The door clicked, and Angelo had his hand gripping the handle of his UZI as he inched towards the door.

Someone peeked through the door,

"Angelo? What's going on? Micky's phone won't work."

"We need to get inside."

"Where's Micky?"

"He's dead, Domitila. He told me to get you out of here."

There was a pause, and then a thump on the door.

Hearing a suppressed sob there was another click and the door opened. Angelo quickly stepped inside, shooing in Simao and closing the door behind him. He glanced out the window as Domitila held a hand to her face. She was 19 and well into her womanhood. Angelo wasn’t that well acquainted with her however. Micky was overprotective enough without having to involve his daughter in the seedier side of the favela.

"Domitila, you only have time to get one thing. We leave now." Domitila still held her hands to her face before looking up, sniffing as she asked,

"How did... What happened to my father, Angelo?"

"Something big is happening here today Domitila. It's something like a gang war. My father was killed as well, and Micky told me to get you out of here. We'll all die if we don't leave. Now. We'll talk as we go"

Domitila wanted to speak more, but then turned and shuffled away towards her room.

"Faster." Angelo said.

She moved quicker then, entering her room.

She emerged with a crucifix and something else clutched in her right hand. A small box.

"My inheritance... He said..."

"Let's go." Angelo said.

Navigating the streets that were pretty much a ghost town now, Angelo tried to keep as quiet as possible,

"This is Simao. I was told to take care of him too."

"What's happening tonight, Angelo?"

"The devil is on the streets, apparently."

"And this devil killed my father?"

"No." Angelo said. They were making good time. They were finally going to get out of here.

There were dead bodies on the street now. People shot with something heavy caliber.

Angelo realized something as he approached the tree line more. There were more dead bodies the closer he got to the town limits.

"Wait." He said, but the two others seemed to have sensed it too.

There was a larger space ahead other than the usual crowding of buildings, since this was the outskirts of the town. The mountain was but a black silhouette of trees. Seeing as the favela was already on a steep slope the peak of the mountain wasn't that far away. The lighting was horrible especially with the cloud cover, but it was clear that ahead there were bodies. Many of them.

Just then a group of people came out into the clearing. Careful, but in a hurry. From what Angelo could see they were all civilians.

"There's something really wrong here."

"We should warn them." Domitila suggested, moving forward a little. Angelo pushed her back, and just in time. The dust wall they were hiding behind exploded, just as someone was shot.

"Whoa!" Angelo cried out despite himself. He, Simao and Domitila hid behind the war as suddenly there were more furtive sounds of bullets impacting bodies and ground.

"Snipers." Angelo hissed as he moved away, keeping low, "Keep down."

There were numerous screams but soon they were all cut short.

"Run, run, run!" Angelo insisted as he led the way, going back to the mess of buildings that was the residential district. Some buildings were on fire, and there was the occasional person running through the streets. The gunfire was still going on in the far distance but for a moment they seemed to have respite.

The three of them stood behind a building. Domitila clutched a crucifix while Simao looked like he was finally calm. He still spoke nothing.

Angelo cursed, "They've boxed us in... The bastards have boxed us in."

"What do we do now?" Domitila asked.

"I don't know! You're older than me right?"

"I want revenge for Micky." Domitila said in a calm voice that was taut with anger, "I wasn't raised to ignore the death of my parent."

"Yeah, well, we're clearly outgunned and outmatched so there's nothing we can do about it in the first place."

"That's not true Angelo. Micky told me all the time, you are a gunslinger if there ever was one. If you put your mind to it you could make everyone pay. You survived where Micky didn't did you not?"

"It was luck."

"Luck of God. You should use this luck now to fight and kill this 'el Diablo'"

Angelo glanced at her, seeing the anger in her face, he knew she was serious. He nudged his head at Simao, "What do you think, kid? We could always hide somewhere and wait for this to blow over."

"I want to save my nana."Simao spoke and then looked down, "And... He also killed my father..."Domitila was silent but approving of this statement.

Angelo smiled, "Yeah, he tends to do that a lot doesn't he? This devil." Angelo rose to his feet, "We'll return the favor."

And the three of them headed towards the light that came from the fire that was slowly engulfing the favela.

The gun cracks were like fireworks, and smoke rose to meet the moonless sky.In between losing his mother and sister to its violence, in between learning how to shoot all sorts of guns and becoming a killer for his father, in between having his life reduced to dirty deeds done at cheap prices and an endless cycle of drinking and self loathing, Angelo thought that city had never looked better.